The Lairig Pass (Lairig an Laoigh)
by Sean Mulligan
I wanted to cycle off road as much as possible from Aviemore to Tomintoul, and from there by road back home to Keith. On route I would make use of the Lairig Pass, which links Speyside and Deeside (not to be confused with the Lairig Ghru which starts further south/west). My intended route was to cycle from Aviemore station through Glenmore Forest, then begin to climb up to the plateau on to the north east side of Bynack Beg and Bynack More where I would then follow the Lairig Pass down to the River Avon (OS Landranger 36). I took a train from Keith to Aviemore on Friday 29th April arriving at 1.40pm
The first leg went well, nine miles of cycle lanes from Aviemore led into the beautiful Glenmore Forest, with hard packed trails. After the crossing of the Nethy Burn the track steepened and deteriorated. From here it was hard work, about 370 metres of climb in 3 kilometres, heading south-east.
This section was mostly unridable due to both the steepness and the deep drainage ruts crossing every 20 metres or so. It was slow going, sometimes lifting the laden bike over holes and ruts pushing against a cold, building head wind. At the top of the ridge the quality of the track improved again and I cycled the last section up to around 800 metres. Though the worst of the climb was behind me it was getting late, nearly 5pm and the light was starting to fade. My pannier had worked loose and was rattling badly. I knelt on the boggy ground to fix it only to find the key on my multi tool could only tighten it a couple of turns – hopefully it wouldn’t fall off.
As I made my way down towards Loch Avon I was glad to be out of the wind for a while. But the path was deteriorating again; narrow, rock-strewn with copious deep, soft mud, so for another 5 kilometres was off the bike and pushing. When I came in sight of the river Avon, I guessed I was around 3 kilometres below the loch.
I was cold and disoriented and the path had disappeared amongst the boggy uneven ground. In the fading light even the simplest navigation seemed to be confusing me. I needed to find the path again, so that I could at least push the bike instead of carry it, then find the first bit of reasonably flat dry ground to set up the stove before it got completely dark. After more hacking through bog and ridges, I eventually found the path, which was now very narrow with a steep drop on the right.
Around 8pm, exhausted and hungry I dropped the bike in the heather, placed my stove on the path and cooked up some noodles and tuna. I have to say that, despite food, I was still cold and miserable, and fumbled with my numb hands to pack the Trangia away.
I needed to get out of the wind before trying to sleep. About 20 metres below me I saw a boulder on the steep slope down to the river, large enough to give me some shelter. Scrambling down, first with panniers, then the bike, I found the ground next to the rock was marshy, so I was thankful I had brought a camping mat. The exertion of climbing and carting the kit down had warmed me up a bit and once inside the bivvy bag I felt quite snug, though when ever I nodded off or moved I started to sledge slowly down the slope towards the river. I had to move further from the boulder where I could place my feet on a tussock of heather and get some stability. The sky cleared to give an amazing star-scape, and exhausted I drifted to sleep.
I woke to the pale half light of early dawn at 4.30am. A freezing wind swept up the gully and my hands a feet were cold and it didn’t feel like the place for a morning lie in so I scrambled down to the river to fill the kettle. I brewed up some coffee with plenty sugar and ate some malt loaf then, as I felt myself properly waking up and feeling warmer, packed away the stove and bivvy bag.
As the map indicated, where the path went high it was a precipitous goat track, and when low a boggy mess, so for the 2½ hours I pushed and carried the bike. Not much fun I have to say. However when I came in sight of Faindouran Lodge (now a bothy?) the track improved significantly and I was back on the bike enjoying the sunshine.
I made good progress, following the river Avon which now looked alpine; its crystal water cascading over smooth granite boulders heading towards the small waterfall at Linn of Avon. By 10.30 I arrived hot, tired and dusty in Tomintoul and headed straight for the Old Fire Station cafe (highly recommended) for pancakes with bacon and maple syrup.
The last 30 miles back to Keith was all on the B9009 and went well in the warm spring sun.
Sean Mulligan
(Keith, Scotland)